A Morning Thought

   This was the perfect morning for writing - for me, anyway. I went outside into the early morning dark, pleased that it was so warm. A thick fog had rolled in, and the mist had dampened the sidewalks as if it had rained. Again, I looked at the fog, and imagined creatures of all manners stumbling and crawling from out of its depths, skin smooth and black, or perhaps scaly, glistening - searching for prey.
   The crows were out to, circling the field for any little tidbit to peck at for sustenance. Fingers of snow stretched out across the landscape, struggling against the coming spring. I stood and pondered over my words, and I let the atmosphere guide me along, lending me a quiet mindset to create all things dark and forbidding.
   In the middle of it all, I came here for release, for satisfaction, as I am grateful for the peace and tranquility it offers me. Some would say I am offish, different, but this is quite alright, for this is who I am. It is what keeps me pushing forward toward a vague destination that I do not know I will reach. And If I do reach it, I am unsure if I will recognize it.
    I suppose it is the same for many, as life does not easily give up its secrets. All any of us can do it reach out for our goals, embracing the inevitable changes along the way. As I approach a half century of life, I often wonder what changes await me. In the meantime, I have my meager but satisfactory life, and some writing to leave behind for someone to ponder over many years from now.

   I will return now to that other world, the one on paper, where people familiar right now only to me struggle with their own issues, their own terrors, and their own victories.